


John The Baptist

by 1000lux



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Getting Together, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, M/M, another less depressing version of how athelstan's return to religion could have went, athelstan lives, how i wish it would have gone, ragnar lives, retelling of the events of s03e06 and later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000lux/pseuds/1000lux
Summary: But Athelstan couldn't stay and Ragnar had known that.





	John The Baptist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own rights to either the series or the characters.

But Athelstan couldn't stay and Ragnar had known that. Things had gotten more volatile with the people in Kattegat. Floki had made sure to tell everyone that Athelstan had thrown away his bracelet. It had been dumb to do so, Ragnar knew that, but Floki himself had done stupid things in religious frenzy, who was he to tell Athelstan what must and mustn't be done? And Athelstan invigorated, steeled by his renewed faith in a way Ragnar had never seen him before, not even back then, when Athelstan had held onto that book when all the other monks had run and hid, was all but done with Floki's antics. He faced the storm of hostility from all the others unwaveringly, seemed more at ease than Ragnar could ever remember. When the two of them were alone, he was all smiles that reached the eyes, easy contenment. Ragnar had asked him, if, if he'd asked him again today, what he and Lagertha had offered back when Athelstan had been new in their house, if he'd have refused again. And now, now returned to his old god, who for all Ragnar knew despised this kind of thing, now, years after they'd met, years of to and fro and the knowledge of something being there and a line so flimsy and delicate it was a miracle it hadn't been crossed before, Athelstan came to take him up on his offer. There was a new strength in him. Like he knew something no one else did. And he told Ragnar that his god loved him, and that he loved Ragnar too. And Athelstan kissed him not in the way a friend would. And he was confident in his actions and there was no doubt anylonger.

And for a little while Ragnar had been truly happy. They would go together to Frankia. And they did. 

But Floki was as irreconcilable as ever and still riling up minds and tempers against Athelstan, even though they all agreed that Athelstan's knowledge was priceless in their pursuit of Paris.

"Say, Floki," Athelstan met the other with steel in his eyes, no hesitation. "What is it that scares you more? That Ragnar loves me more than you, or that my god could be the stronger one?"

And Ragnar was for one thing proud that Athelstan was fighting back, but knew for another it wasn't good to antagonize Floki like this in public.

And things didn't go better when Athelstan told them he couldn't fight with them in Paris. That he couldn't take any lives anylonger. And Ragnar, Ragnar didn't mind, had expected that much to be truthful, but Floki, Floki twisted and turned it to feed it to the others.

And Ragnar saw the looks Floki threw in Athelstan's direction. Dark looks, hateful and unhinged in a way that unsettled him, when nothing about his best friend had ever unsettled him before. And Ragnar talked to him, tried to reason with him, reassure him, but knew eventually that it had been futile and would be futile and felt his own heart harden against his best friend.  
And he'd known in his heart that Athelstan wouldn't be save, that he couldn't protect him. And he saw it all taking a toll on Athelstan, no matter how he weathered it all.

And he'd let him go back. Had taken him to the shore of Wessex himself, in one of Lagertha's boat with a crew of her women, because Ragnar didn't trust his own people anylonger. He left the battle for Paris for a while and sailed to Wessex.  
King Ecbert and him where enemies now, even if no one but the two of them knew of it. But Ragnar knew for a fact that Athelstan would be save with him, for the king loved him nearly as much as Ragnar did. Only Ragnar wasn't sure if Athelstan would be any happier there than he'd been at Kattegat, for the Christians were as shortsighted and unforgiving as Ragnar's own people. They couldn't see that asking questions didn't make you weak but truly brave. That the faith that had been once renounced and then rediscovered was the truly strong one, not the one blindly accepted without second thought. Ragnar knew that, so did King Ecbert, because in their hearts they'd always wanted knowledge and discovery more than they'd wanted power. Ragnar laughed to himself, maybe the three of them would have been more happy in life, had they been all born to be monks in one of those monasteries, reading in old books and travelling the world. Ecbert had been born a king, Ragnar had become a king and Athelstan had never been interested in any such thing, but at the bottom line they were all the same. That was why after King Ecbert had destroyed his dream, Ragnar could still feel the same uncanny friendship and respect between the two of them, as he handed Athelstan over to him, on a secret meeting on the beach, as he entrusted him with the wellbeing of the man he loved more than anyone else.

And Ragnar had returned and he had taken Paris. And he had been more famous than ever before, more feared. But Athelstan hadn't been with him. And back at Kattegat everything had been flat and stale. His friendship with Floki soured, just as the success had turned bitter in his mouth. And he looked into the faces of his friends and comrades and his wife and he didn't recognize them anylonger, couldn't feel warmth for them anylonger as he once had, when all he could remember was how they hadn't had any warmth for Athelstan. And every place in Kattegat was tainted, for all he seemed able to remember was each and every look, touch and conversation he'd had there with Athelstan.

But life went on. And Ragnar adjusted to the reality he now called his own. But he was changed and he realised only through the years how changed he truly was. And that maybe it hadn't been Athelstan's absence that had changed him, but that he'd been changed years ealier when he'd met Athelstan. And that now, he couldn't go back to the man he'd been before that. 

And it was like Paris had been his last true victory. For after that there seemed only one loss after another. His brothers betrayal the most prominent. And nothing Ragnar touched seemed to succeed anymore. And he didn't care as much as he should have. He was lost. Lost in a kingdom he had no use for anylonger. Lost in battles whose outcome were just the same in his heart. And he ached. So, with fierce and maybe blind determination he tried to concentrate on taking revenge on his brother, as if that would bring him any solace.

And after the last disastrous battle in Frankia as they were preparing to sail home, Ragnar couldn't quite believe his eyes, which might as well have been since both his eyes were nearly swolen shut, his whole face bruised and lacerated. It had been five years and for a moment Ragnar wondered how he'd survived that long, realised he'd barely been alive those past years. And there he was, walking through the ranks of vikings in his monk's cowl, unafraid, being let pass by all the men and women who were too busy getting their broken and beaten bodies aboard the ships. And he knelt down beside Ragnar, wiping the blood off his face. And Ragnar wondered how he'd known, but of course King Ecbert would have heard about the raven banner having returned to Frankia. And it didn't matter how Athelstan had gotten here, for when Ragnar grabbed his hand, he knew that this wasn't an apparition, that he was truly here. And within one moment all was well again. And Ragnar smiled at him, despite the hurt in his hole face and said.

"I think I've done it wrong, my John the baptist. This time you'll lead the way. And wherever you go, I'll follow."

In the middle of the departure for Kattegat, after his most crushing defeat, Ragnar Lothbrok vanished. And afterwards no one could quite tell how it had happened and where he had gone. Even years later.

And Ragnar followed Athelstan back to England. And he grew out his hair again and shaved his beard and put on a cowl. And no one, no one ever thought to suspect that the two wandering monks could be anything but what they seemed. No one who offered them housing and a meal, would ever even think to believe that the man sharing their supper was the infamous viking leader.

And they travelled the country and lived in peace. And seven years from then, Ragnar would reconcile with his brother, who'd by then become kind of Frankia. And they would sit together in front of the fire as they used to, inside the fortress of Paris. And another four years later, Ragnar and Athelstan would travel to the Mediterranean with Bjorn and Halfdan the Black. For Bjorn was the only one who had always known that his father hadn't been lost and where to look for him.


End file.
